


Morrigan's Story

by DAfan7711



Series: Beyond Circle, Beyond Order [8]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7747324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAfan7711/pseuds/DAfan7711
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story about Lady Morrigan's face-off with Fen'Harel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morrigan's Story

**Author's Note:**

> Morrigan's Story can be read as a one-shot stand-alone, but it contains spoilers for chapters 8 and 16 of [Courage, My Heart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6277669/chapters/14384737) in my [Beyond Circle, Beyond Order](http://archiveofourown.org/series/368558) series.

She had the anchor’s power. She didn’t need to hide from him any longer.

“Mother, I will free you.”

It didn’t matter if the will was her own or Mythal’s.

He’d taken Mythal, but she refused to be integrated: that kind of melding required both a willing host and a willing soul to join. So he had not grown in power.

Solas had underestimated Corypheus and lost the orb. Fen’Harel had underestimated Mythal and now she warred with him inside his own body.

_A soul isn’t forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in any danger from me._

Morrigan stood before her newest Eluvian, with no one to speak to but herself. “The reverse is also true: A stolen soul won’t cooperate with their captor.”

Morrigan stepped through her Eluvian, calling out his greeting. She had felt his echoing shudders in the Fade when she absorbed the orb’s power; he wouldn’t ignore the summons.

His response was immediate: As she stepped out into the misty blue Crossroads between the Fade and waking world, he stepped out of another Eluvian across the courtyard.

“You dare?” He was a haughty as ever. It would be nice to see him truly angry—she’d not had a battle with anyone of real talent since the Inquisition—but he remained aloof.

“So says the one who stalked me.”

“How did you steal the Inquisitor’s Mark? Why is she not dead?”

Morrigan sighed, surprised by her own unwillingness to match his ire with scorn. “Ferelden needs her. Alistair needs her.”

“So he’s ‘Alistair’ now?”

“I see the years have not changed you. Odd, for I feel much changed inside, despite appearing no older.”

He ignored her comment. “You cannot stop my plans.”

“Solas, the orb’s power is freedom, not destruction.”

He narrowed his gaze, as if glaring at her would reveal her secrets. More talk was pointless; he was not interested in her views, and Flemeth had waited long enough. She needed no flashy show of hands. Just a few words.

“Be free, Mother. I free you.”

Within the stone courtyard under their feet, the sun-lit clearing of the altar of Mythal appeared, dancing with breezes. Dim shapes of Crossroads Eluvian and sculpture remained in a misty outer circle beyond Mythal’s sanctuary.

Solas silently fell to his knees, face contorted in pain, his empty arms open in the same position as when he held Flemeth’s body and stole Mythal’s soul.

Whispering vapors drew a blue outline—ice filled with fire—in the elf’s arms.

“I build your body from earth”—at Morrigan’s words, twigs, grass, and dirt eddied up too fast for the eye to follow each movement—“your breath from the sky.”

Flemeth inhaled a deep breath and rose, leaving Solas on his knees. She took a step away from him and Mythal’s altar disappeared, leaving the three in the dim blue Crossroads.

Solas stood, lips pursed in disapproval.

Without the constant struggle of Flemeth within him, his inner magic rushed back to full power. Yet he neither spoke, nor attacked. With one step backward, he was through the Eluvian and the mirror went dark.

“You could have made me younger, girl.” Flemeth raised a hand to her wrinkled face and looked down at the green dress she’d last worn at their hut in the swamp.

Morrigan smiled. “No, ‘Batty Old Crone’ suits you, Mother.”

Flemeth took a step forward and Morrigan took a step back.

“I know better than to let you touch me. No need to show affection now.”

She’d taken the orb’s power from Queen Margaret with a gentle kiss, just as Margie had taken it from Corypheus by placing a hand on the orb itself.

Flemeth cackled. A wind whipped up from her feet, transforming her dress into studded red leather pants and a bustier with train and metal gloves. Of its own accord, her lank, grey hair flashed back to pure white, the top layer rising up in conjured red leather straps like dragon horns.

“Hmm.” Flemeth tilted her head in appraisal. “Why did you come?”

“‘A soul is not force on the unwilling.’ Neither could I ignore a soul bound against her will. Better to end a soul, than enslave it.”

They turned in tandem toward the Eluvian Solas had used to escape.

Morrigan asked, “If I kill him, will the Veil fall? Will I rain destruction on the world?”

“My dear girl, I have no idea.”

Flemeth walked away, disappearing into a black mist, leaving her long-lived mortal daughter alone with just as many questions as before.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Guest comments and kudos welcome. You can also chat with me on [Pinterest](https://www.pinterest.com/dafan7711/boards/) and [Tumblr](http://dafan7711.tumblr.com/), where I blog about gaming, writing, and life.
> 
> Works-in-progress include Warrior Dove (about Alistair and Margie's granddaughter, Princess Culver), and original stories outside the Dragon Age universe.


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